


vandalism can be (romantic)

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots, joshler - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Language, Forgiveness, Guilt, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Light Angst, M/M, Vandalism, i think so, is this what hell feels like, punk josh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell you what," the guy had murmured, pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket. "You scratch up Dun's motorcycle, and you get fifty bucks."</p>
<p>How could anyone pass that up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	vandalism can be (romantic)

**Author's Note:**

> so hell is nice this time of year :)

To be clear, Tyler didn't especially despise Josh Dun. In fact, he'd consider them on good terms, seeing that the punk's signature scowl-and-sneer combo had only been directed at him once.

And that was when he had spilled soda all over his boots.

(But he didn't get punched, just glared at so violently that he thought his head would explode from the sheer ferocity of it.)

Anyway, the interactions between them had always been minimal; Tyler usually just watched Josh scare the fuckboys shitless whenever they tried to pick a fight with him.

You don't pick fights with Josh Dun. You just don't.

And that's why Tyler should've known better than to get involved in this stupid bet.

But by the time he realized he was on the fast-track to certain disaster, it was sort of too late.

Needless to say, the fuckboys were still pissy over Dun basically neutering them, and they wanted revenge. And they needed someone sneaky, someone quick, someone not a lot of people knew or would expect-

Ah. Tyler Joseph.

"Tell you what," the guy had murmured after sitting him down, pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket. "You scratch up Dun's motorcycle, and you get fifty bucks."

How could anyone pass that up?

His mouth was saying "yes" before he had even processed all of the consequences:

1\. This is Josh Dun. Gladiator. Master of scowling expressions and giving ~~children~~ everyone nightmares.

2\. If he was found out, not only would his ass be whooped, but it was possible that he'd have to pay for the damages.

3\. Going to court - and later probation - for vandalism doesn't sound fun.

So, when you add all that up, it equals a bad time.

But _fifty fucking dollars?_

He'd probably jump into a lion's jaws for that kind of money (which is basically what he was doing anyway, because once again: this is Josh Dun we're talking about.)

But hey, the next day he was creeping through the parking lot towards the Harley with no intentions of going back.

_Okay, Ty, you got this. All you have to do is fuck it up a bit and the cash is yours._

After glancing around warily about five times to make sure Dun wasn't crouched behind a car and waiting to pounce or something, he retrieved a set of car keys from his pocket.

Was he really going to do this? Just for some quick money?

(Yes. Yes, he was.)

He set the keys into the fender and dragged them along, grimacing at the ugly, jagged lines left behind, along with the godawful nails-on-a-chalkboard noise.

Good thing he didn't really like motorcycles, otherwise he would've been weeping genuine tears.

He hacked at the bike's seat a little for good measure; he even went as far as scratching up the gas tank.

Yeah, okay, he kind of went overboard, but what could he say: it was exhilarating. Sue him.

Finally sitting back, he examined the extent of the damage and deemed it gut-wrenching with a satisfied nod.

Okay, so that was easier than he had anticipated. And now he was going to get fifty dollars.

Unless he got found out. Then he'd get Josh Dun's fist in his jaw.

(He didn't really want to think about that.)

Slinking back into the building just as his free period was coming to a close, he tried his best not to look suspicious, which is really difficult for someone who just vandalized a moody punk's motorcycle and was screaming on the inside.

He eventually bumped into the guy that had offered him the job - and more importantly, the money - and was promptly grabbed by the arm.

"Follow through with it, Joseph?" It was growly and yet not the least bit intimidating to him.

"C'mon, who are you talking to here?" When all he received was a blank stare, he sighed and tossed him the keys. "Yeah, man, I did it."

"Wrote on it, too?"

Tyler felt his heart near his stomach. He still felt like an asshole about that last part. "Sure did."

"All right, good." The grip on his arm was released and the fuckboy began stalking away.

"Hey, wait! I thought we had a deal here!" Tyler spluttered out indignantly, starting after him. "Fifty bucks, remember?"

"Just wanna see if the results are satisfactory, Joseph." It was tossed sneeringly over one shoulder. "If you did a good job, you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

Ah, fuck. Couldn't he just get the money, and everyone could move on with their lives?

Mumbling bitterly to himself, he loped to his next period with a curled upper lip and an urge to punch someone.

 

You know, Tyler had been expecting Josh Dun to tear the entire school apart with his bare hands - along with everyone in it - once he learned of his beloved bike's fate.

But the next day, his expression was the same as always: scowly and surly and sulky.

Tyler wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed, but the fuckboys had definitely chosen the latter, hence why they cornered him the first chance they got.

"What the fuck, Joseph! What'd you do, put cat stickers on it or something?"

"Listen, guys, it's not my fault he's made of ice or something," Tyler insisted nervously, back brushing against the greasy bathroom wall. "Can I go, please?"

"You fucking let us down, you pussy," one spat, not looking entirely opposed to beating the shit out of him. In fact, none of them did, which was concerning on a number of levels. "You gotta pay, Joseph."

"Actually, the only ones who need to pay are you guys," Tyler mumbled under his breath, because where was his fifty dollars, dammit? He hadn't asked for any of this. He just wanted to take his payment and leave the rest behind.

But that was a tall order, apparently, because he was just waiting for all of them to lunge forward like a pack of wolves and tear him limb from limb.

That was, until they heard the bathroom door slam shut and the snarled words,

"On the count of three, I want all of you little fuckers out of here. One-"

There was no need for two or three, because they were practically tripping over one another in order to get out the door.

Tyler scarcely got to bask in the relief when the pink hair and nose piercing registered and he began bolting for the exit, too.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Not you, scrawny boy. You're staying."

Fuck. This was it, right? He knew he'd pay for writing all those test answers on his wrist eventually.

Instantly, he was scrambling back to his previous spot- and was immediately under the heat of Josh Dun's glare.

"I, um-" he began helplessly, but Josh held up a hand, shutting him up.

"I know you did it, Tyler."

"Er, I don't- did what?" he babbled stupidly. Was there really any point by now?

"Honestly, kid." Tyler felt the color drain from his face as a Sharpie was held up. "You left this in the parking lot."

"How do you know it was me?! That could be anyone's marker," he defended himself weakly. He wasn't quite sure why he was still bothering with the whole "playing innocent" thing, but he had nothing to lose.

Except for a lot of blood.

"Oh, please. The end is all chewed up." Josh gestured crudely to the bite-marks, but before Tyler could ask how he knew about that habit of his, he was knocked sideways by the next words: "So, tell me: how much did they pay you for doing damage that would cost me hundreds of dollars in repairs and writing _Josh Dun is a fag_ on my bike?"

Tyler allowed his shoulders to slump defeatedly. "If it makes you feel any better, they didn't pay me anything."

"So you did it for free?"

"No! I mean- fuck, man, I really don't know what to tell you," he murmured feebly, unable to meet his eyes; this time not from fear, but from shame. "I'm... God, I'm sorry."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josh's expression soften. "Let me guess: they promised you money and then went back on their word?"

A weak nod.

"Ah. How typical of them." There was a dismal beat of silence on Tyler's part, and then, "Hey, look at me." 

He sighed sadly and did just that.

"I'm really not that mad, you know. I was pissed when I first found out, but then I just sold it to a guy who restores old motorcycles and shit. Most of it was still in good condition, so he's gonna take it apart, use its parts for different projects." When Tyler blinked up at him wistfully, he added in a chuckle, "Besides, I wasn't a huge fan of the bike anyway. A little too loud. I would've been deaf by age twenty-five, if I kept riding that thing."

And, dammit, Tyler actually managed a laugh.

"Just don't worry about it, okay? No need to dwell on it." Josh nodded a conclusive nod and turned to leave.

"I- wait," Tyler choked out.

The punk paused.

"I still feel like... I dunno, like I need to make up for it somehow," he continued desperately, worrying nervously at the inside of his cheek. "The guilt'll eat me up, otherwise. Especially for- for what they told me to write on it."

A smile that could make flowers grow rather than a scowl that made them wilt in horror. "Okay, Joseph, I'll tell you what: you let me take you out for ice cream tomorrow - _and_ you put this behind us - and we'll be even. Got it?"

And just like that, the color that had drained from Tyler's face five minutes before was back and then some. "Oh. I, uh- holy shit, yeah. That... That sounds fair. Yes. Let's do that."

Josh grinned, nodded, and left Tyler to stare at the door he disappeared through as it swung shut.

This was certainly better than fifty dollars.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you're having a great day/night <3


End file.
